All That Glitters
by HerWretchedWastrel
Summary: Light Yagami has the perfect plan- he'll judge the world and bring it to its knees.  Only two things stand in his way to godliness- an obsessive, insomniac rock star, and the world's greatest -and ditziest- detective. Various pairings.


**I think I'm gonna enjoy this...****I am writing this as a fill to a kink meme request at the dn-kink2.**

**"Basically AU where MISA is the world's foremost detective, and L is an obsessive idol." That was too awesome to pass up. So, here I give you the first chapter in my attempt to see what exactly would happen if these two very different characters did the switcharoo. Pretty serious this chapter, but knowing myself, it'll be more black humor than anything, slightly crackish.**

**ANYWAYS.**

**ENJOY!**

**-Avenue**

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><p>The room was bathed in an etheral blue, light reflecting off the various flickering monitors that stood scattered on the floor. Mountains of magazines littered the area with smiling faces and advertisements of movies and models that would probably be forgotten in the next year. The incessant sounds of fingers tapping away at keyboards. A figure sitting crosslegged in front of the many screens. A face tinted with aquatic colors. Brown eyes dyed blue as the light bore into them. It was strangely silent, the only noise that made its way across the room was the quiet purring of the computers and the low humming of a happy tune. A slender hand reached for one of the many folders that laid tossed on the floor<em>. <em>

Perfectly kept nails leafed quickly through the files, slowing down as a single case number caught the eye. The person's brow furrowed in thought. Mouth set with grim concentration. _An unseen force giving criminals heart attacks...a vengeful god, perhaps? No...this person makes mistakes. There's a goal that needs to be reached. For a god, that would be too easy._

A smile graced the soft face, small giggles escaped pursed lips.

"Watari!"

Footsteps grew louder as they approached the room, the door swinging open with a slight groan as an elderly gentleman walked in, sporting an armful of magazines and scissors. "What is it?" he said with a bow, his voice smooth with dutiful politeness. "Do you require more _18_ magazines? Or perhaps the latest edition of _Vogue-_"

The detective's head shook furiously. "No no no!" A pout, and then a meaningful point to a file thick and heavy with papers regarding cases of past and old. "I found one."

The man's eyes, creased and marked with time, widened a bit in pleasant surprise. "It is the Kira case, I suppose?"

A wide grin, winning and charming. "Yup! And just in time too...I was getting really bored."

The elder chucked softly. "Very well. Shall I send Interpol your message?"

"Yes. Oh, and on your way back, I need one of...um..._those_, please."

The gentleman's weathered face visibly tensed at the suggestion, a frown barely detected behind a forced smile. "Of course. I will be on my way." With that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The figure glanced at the monitor one last time before standing up and stretching. A pondering look before a sigh of content. "Whoo! Well I guess I'll take a break, just for a bit." Stylish high-heels, ordered and hand-made, clicked lightly against the floor as the detective skpped out of the area and into a well-lighted living room, furinshed with Victorian era sofas and magnolian tables. A collage of men, none smiling, all numbered, was snatched off the table, accompanied with two newspapers and a pair of scissors. Sliding into one of the easy chairs, she hummed while carefully cutting out various pictures of recent arrests and convictions, neatly pasting the images onto the paper. It was coming out rather pretty, she thought. The only part that was missing was the very center. She traced the empty space with a delicate finger, smiling widely.

"Kira, this spot is for you," she said, mainly to herself. "This is cuz you're special. Just like me!"

A lone doll sat lifelessly on the coffee table, gazing blankly at its owners with glass eyes. The girl giggled, scooping it up and rolling onto the floor with the doll against her breasts. "Yes. Misa's very happy. Misa got herself a new playmate."

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><p>"Ryuzaki!"<p>

A tall, stick-thin woman strode with lethal purpose as she approached a rather large trailer. She paced up the steps and rapped sharply on the door. "Ryuzaki! I know you're in there!" she hissed briskly. "You're on in 5!"

She was only answered by a long, jeering silence. Her nose began to flare in frustration. "Ryuzaki!" she snapped, banging against the door harshly. "I don't care if you didn't get enough cake, and I don't care if you think that sugar is the only way for you to function properly. You need to get out. _Now._"

There was no audible answer, but the woman _swore_ she heard shuffling inside. She sighed, massaging her forehead achingly. "Ryuzaki, if you don't come out now, I'll prohibit you from any source of sweets or sugar, or fucking Splenda for a full 5 weeks."

The shuffling quieted. She smirked.

"Ryuzaki...1." She began to count, tapping on the railings impatiently.

A muffled sigh. The bastard. She could almost see his pout straight through the wall.

"2."

The clattering of plates.

"And...thr-"

The door burst wide open, barely missing hitting the woman's sharp, prim nose. She took a few steps back in shock, and then in annoyance. "Thank you Ryuzaki, for so kindly opening your door," she cooed sarcastically. "And also thank you for actually wearing your work clothes instead of prancing around in that rag and denim you call _clothes."_

"That was a very cruel threat," a pale, dark-haired male said as he padded out the door. He pulled at his tight, black shirt and jeans uncomfortably before giving a small pout. The suffocating leather pants barely gave him room to walk. The shirt was worse. He was sure that the polyster material was designed to constrict him until he could no longer breathe. "And they are clothes," he mumbled, chewing his thumb as he looked up at the sky in thought. "They are made for wearing and to give me warmth when I am cold. These only serve to slowly take away my ability to breathe and stifle my chances to procreate by 1.3% each time I wear them."

The manager's eye twitched slightly. "Whatever. Let's just get you in front of the damn cameras before all hell breaks loose." She scanned him quickly once more before stomping up to him and forcibly straightening his back. "Back straight, Ryuzaki!" she said with a hiss. "Remember, right now you're _L_, the rock star. Not Ryuzaki the bum."

He gave her a long, grim stare. "You offend my feelings," he said with mock hurt. "Now I have no choice but to boycott your abusive behavior." Before the baffled woman could respond, the thin young man scuffled back into his hideout and shut the door with defiance.

The black-haired lady stared dumbly before letting out an agonizing screech of frustration. "Fine. FINE. Be that way. And I meant it. No cake, or sweets, or whatever for the next five weeks!"

The door opened just a smidge, eyes looking up at her with owlish innocence. "I am 89% sure that you will not fulfill your threat due to the fact that you need me, and because you find my pout considerably attractive."

With that, he quickly shut the door, sliding against it as he heard his manager angrily yell into her cellphone. He stood up, shuffling through the various clothes and plates that covered his floor and crouched onto one of the rather lavish, but badly abused sofas. He chewed on his thumb a bit, glancing up at the ceiling quietly before absentmindedly picking up one of the few photographs that inhabited his cave. A man. A woman. A child. An odd, but happy family, he supposed. A surge of heartache threatened to rise up in his chest, but he quickly suppressed it. After all, _this_ was the reason why he kept modelling. He needed to stop thinking. Thinking too much meant dwelling on his inabilities. It meant facing his limitations. That was an unacceptable option.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Sleep-deprived eyes stared at the door in annoyance. "Rita, I believe I told you I refuse to go with you," he muttered, wriggling his toes boredly.

"I'm not Rita," a very male voice responded.

"Then Rita probably sent you. Do something better with your time. Like getting me cake."

"Rita didn't send me."

"You're a horrible liar."

"I'm just here with your cupcakes, sir."

The lanky star's ears perked immediately. "Cupcakes?" he repeated, now extremely interested.

"Yes."

He skittered towards the entrance, swinging the door open in excitement. He looked at the man and inwardly jumped.

A solemn, pale-faced man stood waiting patiently with a small box in tow. His messy, shaggy dark hair swept over his eyes slightly, just barely concealing a rather nasty burn that scorched across his face. Other burns peppered over his white skin like macabre decorations. He raised a hand and coughed violently into it before waving at the celebrity. "It's me, Rue," the dark-haired man before him said quietly. "I work with the lights."

Ryuzaki shuddered discreetly. "I know who you are," he said briskly, covering up his initial nervousness. "Where are my cupcakes?" _What is it with the person?_ he thought to himself, as he gave a small smile. _He looks like he could have been my brother. And so many burns..._

"They're right here," Rue said, opening a small box. L peered inside hesitantly before relaxing with drool. "Red velvet...delectable," he muttered. "But I-" he froze. His words died in his mouth. The sharp tip of a blade bearing its glory near his throat. Rue with a dark, obsessive look overpowering him. "I..." he mumbled. unsteady and trembling. "I want to be just like you..." He took a step forward, not missing a beat as Ryuzaki took several fear-induced steps back. "I..." He roughly grabbed the idol by the throat, throwing him onto the ground. Ryuzaki's heart pounded in fear as he looked around desperately. No. They were all at the shoot. Several miles away. Leaving them alone...isolated.

"I want to _become_ you," Rue shouted, laughing and sobbing uncontrollably, looking down at the horrified boy with brown, almost _red_ eyes. Rue glanced at the star's expression, and instantly became grim. "Don't give me that look." he hissed, pinning the pale throat on the ground with both hands. "You probably don't even know my name."

"I do know," Ryuzaki objected, amazed at his own clarity. "I do know. It's Rue."

"Wrong!" he sang, stabbing the knife in the ground right next to the raven's head. "People only call me _Rue_ because I look like you." A soft, deranged smile. "But I don't want to be Rue. I don't want to be Beyond. I want to be..." he yanked the blade out of the soil, positioning it over the terrified Ryuzaki's neck. "You." The blade began to come down swiftly like the ominous pendulum. Tears began to pool at Ryuzaki's eyes for the first time in years. Terror overcame his body, and he couldn't take his horrified eyes away from the knife as it swung towards his veins and...clammered on the ground.

The idol realigned his vision onto Rue (or Beyond or whoever the hell he was). His eyes seemed to be frozen in eternal torment. Like the eyes of a warrior beaten down in battle. He trembled on top of L, releasing his throat in order to clutch at his own chest, letting out a small gasp. He stumbled away from his prey, crawling onto the ground desperately. He collapsed into a writhing heap, lifting his head just enough to give a gaze full of anger, love, despair, and hate before slumping onto the ground lifelessly.

It was silent. There was no one on the set. There was no one _near_ the set. No sound. Just the wind and labored, heavy breaths. Ryuzaki slowly forced himself to sit up, trembling and frightened and confused. He looked around, before leaning against the parked trailer wearily. This...made no sense. No sense at all. Suddenly, a small _plop_ sounded in his ears.

He turned over to Rue's dead, bleeding body, and made a double-take. There was a black notebook, slim and unmarked, that had inexplicably appeared on the corpse's chest out of nowhere. That was...odd. Slowly, the insomniac rock star idol crawled over to the body, careful not to actually touch Rue as he delicately picked up the notebook. He flipped through it, somewhat confused by the strange languages scrawled all over the rather ancient paper. "What is this..." he asked himself.

"It's a death note."

Ryuzaki swerved his head, eyes widening in utter horror and terror as he made eye contact with a hideous, _hideous_ creature, looming over him with skeletal limbs and a snake-like eye. Mossy, seaweed hair draped over its head, tattered and worn bandages wrapped around half its face. It regarded him with coldness. His heart was pounding, his breathing was becoming short and quick, his eyes darted back and forth everywhere until his head span.

"I am Rem," it continued, ignoring his fearful, horrified expression. "And whoever's name you write in this notebook shall die."


End file.
